


a dozen sparks

by rabidgopher



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, Galo is an emt y'all!, M/M, Post-Canon, Prompt Fill, Vignette, cw: blood, fifty ways to kiss someone prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidgopher/pseuds/rabidgopher
Summary: Prompt fills for the fifty ways to kiss someoneprompts
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	a dozen sparks

**Author's Note:**

> I'll update tags and ratings as I go. This is just gonna be a few prompt fills so I can work on my characterization and fluff-writing skills. Please enjoy!

Galo’s kitchen knives were a Christmas gift from Varys, new and gleaming - and so sharp that Lio hadn’t had time to register pain before he saw blood speckled on the cutting board. The blade had gone deep, and Lio felt a belated chill wrack his body at how little resistance it’d encountered slicing his skin. 

Lio turned his hand this way and that, trying to get a better idea of the wound’s breadth. Comprehension came slow, almost didn’t come at all. He looked. Watched. Nothing erupted from inside the cut, no little spark appearing to cauterize and mend.

The blood came quick, then slow - then, he spread his fingers back and it came quick again. Lio’s eyes unfocused and shifted to the cutting board. He’d have to toss those peppers. Peppers. Cooking. _Dinner_.

The dull disbelief shed from his mind in an instant. He jolted. _Foolish_ , waiting for- he was just _staring_ as blood welled up and slid down in thick drops down his fingers. Instinct, relearned instinct, pulled his hand close to his chest. “Galo,” fell from his lips in a rough shout. Another relearned instinct.

His voice was ragged and summoned Galo in an instant, poking his head into the kitchen. Lio had to drag his eyes from his hand to look at him instead. He didn’t know what kind of face he was making, but the expression on Galo’s face ached a little.

Lio didn’t even have a chance to lift his hand or show him what was wrong before Galo was across the kitchen in two strides and pulling his hand in for inspection. There was a pool of blood tracing the lines in his palm now, branching and sticky as Galo whistled lowly. “You’ll be okay,” he told Lio, as reassuring now as he would be with another civilian among hundreds to treat. “Let’s clean it up.”

Sometimes, Lio forgot. It was easy to overlook how skilled Galo was at the things he loved, how capable his dedication made him. He watched the water sweep away all but the blood at the source, a wide, errant slice - just a mistake. And it _hurt_ , god. Now that he could feel the sting, he could feel his whole hand throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He winced, and Galo met his gaze with wide, worried eyes. “Does it hurt a lot?”

He didn’t want to be terse with him. Anything he could think to say would come out wrong, so he just settled on a short nod and an affirmative hum. He wasn’t sure if he expected to be scolded for not paying attention, or if he might really deserve that, but all Galo said was something about pain being heartening, and nerve damage, and- scarring.

“A scar?” Lio parroted numbly. His eyes did not stray from Galo’s face.

“Yeah, probably - it’s deep, but it’s not serious.” He set Lio’s hand down palm-up on the counter and reached into the cabinet over his head.

Lio watched him draw out a white plastic box and couldn’t help the smile that threatened to bubble into a laugh. “Do you keep a first aid kit in every room?”

“Of course I do!” Like that was a _normal thing_ , his tone seemed to imply. His knuckle tapped Lio’s forehead with all the force of a butterfly wing. Lio wrinkled his nose up in mock offense. “Because accidents happen in every room! This way I don’t have to leave you dying in the kitchen-”

“Galo, it’s just a cut, I’m not _dying_ -”

“ _-just_ to get a bandaid - and no, you’re not dying! Because I thought ahead, and-”

Despite the pain, despite the lack of Burnish flame instantly stitching his wound together, despite Galo’s… _Galo-ness_ , Lio laughed. Galo shut himself up and grinned. 

All his mirth vanished when something burning cold swiped across the line of his cut. “Ow-” Lio hissed and tried to jerk away, but Galo had already tossed the alcohol pad. He made it all look fluid, somehow, overlapping a couple squares of gauze and securing them with a length of medical tape.

The clinical gravity was gone from his eyes when he finished. “Sorry. If I’m sneaky then you don’t psych yourself up for too much pain.” 

“Smart.” Lio inspected the clean wrapping while Galo washed and dried his hands. “Thank you.” _Love you._

He puffed up. “Course! It’s my job, after all.” Galo caught his hand again. “Forgot the most important part.”

“And you call yourself an EMT?” Lio chuckled as he brought the bandage to his lips. “Forgetting something that vital.” Somehow, he earned a peck on the cheek, too, for that retort. 

“We all have our moments, y’know. I’ll call in takeout.”

“It’ll be the third time this week,” Lio protested, looking askance. “I can keep cooking.”

“Lio.” Galo cupped his chin and kissed him properly. “Thai?”

Lio sighed, shook his head, tugged him back in. “Pizza.”


End file.
